


Rise in Perfect Light

by midnightninja14



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11701272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightninja14/pseuds/midnightninja14
Summary: It was in that moment that Ignis recalled something he had read in a book long ago, when he had been an eager student, learning everything he could from the books in the large Citadel library. One book had detailed ancient magic, said to once have been accessible by the Lucian royals but lost over time, healing magics that rivaled even those of the Oracle bloodline.





	Rise in Perfect Light

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the end of the game! You've been warned!
> 
> For IgNoct Week - Day 5 Prompt: Ignis manages to use the last of the magic in him to bring Noctis back from the dead when he finds him on the throne.
> 
> i'll edit this properly when i'm not tired, i promise

The world shook underneath his feet, but Ignis had ten years of fighting blind to help keep him steady, even if the ground was unstable and the loud bellows of the Red Giants they were fighting made it hard to think. The rush of emotions he was feeling--overwhelming despair and near-crippling anxiety because his king was _going off to die_ \--it would have made it difficult to focus if Ignis wasn’t determined to succeed in the last task that Noctis had asked of them.

 _Give him time. Time to do what was necessary, time to save the world, time to die, why did he have to die_ \--

Ignis growled under his breath, letting his frustration loose through the precise swings of his daggers as he attacked the daemons threatening to invade the Citadel. He could still hear Prompto and Gladio actively in the fray, thankful that they sounded fine-- _alive_ \--and Ignis knew that his companions felt the same grief and fury that he did. How could they not, when their friend, their prince, their _king_ had only just been returned to them, and now they were forced to leave his side in the end and allow him to walk straight into his death?

It was impossible for any of them to not feel anything besides all-encompassing melancholy at the knowledge that the coming of Dawn would not only indicate victory, but be a sign that Noctis had passed. Pyrrhic.

Ignis could still clearly recall the quiet night around the campfire when Noctis had finally revealed what the true destiny of the Chosen King entailed. It felt like someone had ripped out his lungs, preventing him from breathing properly. His heart had roared in his ears, and it was the second time in the short while that Noctis had returned for that Ignis so desperately wished he could see. The first was when Noctis had come back, finally, finally, after _ten_  years. Ignis could hear the subtle roughness to his lover's voice, the new deepness that was an obvious sign of how Noct had aged. And later that night, when Ignis had gently cupped his King's cheeks, he felt the beard that had grown, and he had wondered how this new version of Noctis looked.

When Ignis considered it, tried to imagine what an older Noctis would look like, all he could see was a young King Regis, but with eyes as blue as the sea and just as deep as the waters.

He was also able to feel the new wrinkles etched into Noct's skin, the sunken skin under his eyes and the hollowness to his cheeks and his heart mourned how his once fresh-faced and youthful prince had been forced to grow so harshly. Ignis had no doubt that the weight of the Crystal's magic and the Ring of the Lucii had aged his friend rapidly, and he mourned the innocent boy Noctis once was. He grieved for his lover who would be forced to die for a better tomorrow. One that Noctis would never see.

Noctis had returned to them in an apocalyptic world of eternal darkness, one overrun by daemons and death. And Noctis would leave them in that world, never seeing the light he would bring back. He wouldn't get to see the Dawn that he was going to sacrifice himself for, a lamb for slaughter in an unfair prophecy.

The anger bubbled anew within Ignis's chest as he thought about Noctis, thought about the boy he had loved and was being forced to let _die_ , the man who had only returned to them to leave them once again. There wasn't enough time, there would never be enough.

Ignis cursed the Astrals, gritting his teeth as he flipped out of the way of an incoming Red Giant's fist, the vibrations in the ground and the rush of wind telling him of the daemon's location. He readied his blades, about to rush forward--

And stopped abruptly, nearly falling to his knees as the air suddenly left his lungs. Ignis felt as though he had been sucker-punched in the gut, his daggers falling from his hands and clattering to the ground. But all Ignis could focus on was the choking feeling of emptiness that was welling up within his chest, an immense sense of foreboding making a chill run down his spine.

It was then that Ignis noticed that that daemons had stopped their attacks, and the next moment, the monsters were screaming in agony. He could hear Gladio and Prompto's heavy breathing, both of them standing near him, no doubt watching the daemons in confusion.

Then there was silence, the wails drifting into nothing as the daemons seemingly disappeared. And suddenly, Ignis felt a faint warmth against his skin, and when he looked up, he sensed a powerful brightness. And he _knew_.

Ignis picked up his daggers, fruitlessly trying to send them into the Astral space, desperately trying to summon anything, _feel_  anything. Tears welled in his useless eye, his emotions swirling like an angry whirlwind.

"He... did it," Gladio breathed out, his voice empty but still holding a tinge of pride underneath the grief.  

Prompto chuckled, a bitter sound that sounded wrong coming from the boy who had once been the human embodiment of sunshine in their little group. "Did you ever have any doubt?"

"...We have to go to him.” Ignis stood straight, turning without another word and walking in the direction of the Citadel. He knew he was going the right way as he ascended up the steps, feeling as though something was pulling him forward. Gladio and Prompto were right on his trail, but Ignis paid them little mind, his thoughts overwhelmed with thoughts of _Noctis, Noctis, Noctis_. He had to know. He had to be _certain_ , foolishly clinging to the tiniest bit of hope despite all odds against them.

But when they finally made it to the the throne room, and Ignis heard Prompto’s choked sob, Gladio’s sharp, watery inhale, he _knew_.

Together, they removed the sword (“the Sword of the Father,” Prompto admitted with a tearful hitch of his breathing, and if Ignis could still see, he would be seeing _red_ ), and they took a moment to themselves to hold their King once more. Took a moment to mourn the man they all had loved so dearly, in different ways. No one said anything when Ignis took a little longer, when he pulled Noctis’s body closer so Noct’s head rested on his shoulder, when Ignis hugged his arms around a limp body that was slowly growing colder and pressed his lips to Noctis’s forehead, when tears leaked from his unseeing eye.

 _No_. This couldn’t be it. Ignis wouldn’t allow it.

The body in his arms was still Noctis, a Lucian King, and the Lucian bloodline had magic in their veins. The thing bubbling in Ignis’s chest, he soon realized with a start, was a remnant of magic that still clung to him, perhaps powered by his proximity to Noctis’s body at the moment.

It was in that moment that Ignis recalled something he had read in a book long ago, when he had been an eager student, learning everything he could from the books in the large Citadel library. One book had detailed ancient magic, said to once have been accessible by the Lucian royals but lost over time, healing magics that rivaled even those of the Oracle bloodline.

One such spell had detailed the specifics of _revival_ , perhaps being a stronger power than that of Phoenix Downs that had grown nearly extinct in the ten years of darkness. If they had had one, they most certainly would have tried to use one on Noctis, but they lacked any, and if any existed in the Astral Sphere it was forever lost for them.

But still, Ignis clung to that bit of magic that still existed within him, idly wondering if his bond of Noct is what kept it lit. It had been a long time since Ignis had learned of that spell, so long that the word was almost lost to him, but as if a soft voice whispered it directly into his ear, Ignis found himself putting all his power into one word: “Raise!”

His ears were ringing, his body _burned_ , and if he could still see, Ignis thought his vision would have blurred into a dizzying flash of white. He could hear the concerned but muffled cries of both Gladio and Prompto, but all Ignis could pay attention to was the body in his arms, the one that was suddenly growing very warm.

And suddenly, the body jolted, _Noctis_ inhaling greedily as though emerging from the depths of the ocean and now trying to pull air back into his lungs. He coughed quietly, one of his hands clutching at his chest as his body trembled and Noct moved to sit up, looking around in bewilderment.

“W-what…? What’s going--mm!” Ignis couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop his smile, couldn’t stop himself from finding Noct’s face and pulling it close to his, kissing Noct’s soft lips and relishing in the warmth emanating from the very _alive_ body of his friend, his King, his lover. Noctis wasted no time in kissing him back, his hands gently covering the hands Ignis still had on Noct’s cheeks. Ignis could feel the tears that slowly slipped from Noct’s eyes as they fell onto his fingers, could feel Noctis smile into their kiss and hear both Prompto and Gladio chuckling wetly in the background.

Noctis pulled away, moving his hands so he could hold Ignis’s face adoringly. “You always have my back, don’t you?”

Ignis chuckled helplessly, leaning his tired body down against Noct’s, resting his head in the crook of Noct’s neck. The spell really had taken a lot out of him, but he couldn’t even be bothered to care about his exhaustion because Noctis was alive. “Always, my love.”

Prompto and Gladio finally crowded in closer, excitedly chattering and hugging both Noctis and Ignis, giddy in the knowledge that they all were alive, together, sitting peacefully in the warmth of the sunlight that streamed into the throne room from the windows and the open wall.

They had all the time in the world now, more time to be together, to experience the world and rebuild. To _live_ , in the peace that Noctis had brought about. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://midnightninja14.tumblr.com)!
> 
> The title comes from the poem _The Old Astronomer to His Pupil_ , since I really like the last two lines of it and I think they fit IgNoct super well!


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